


Two For the Road

by sunalso



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, AoS Fic Net 2.0 AU August, F/M, Marriage of Convenience, Oregon Trail, Saloon, background fitzsimmons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:14:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25775692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunalso/pseuds/sunalso
Summary: Western AU. Sousa's been riding the trail alone for a long time, but when Daisy needs a little help--and a fake husband-- he's ready to do anything she needs.
Relationships: Skye | Daisy Johnson/Daniel Sousa
Comments: 54
Kudos: 133
Collections: AOS AU August 2020





	1. Chapter 1

All Daniel wanted was a quick sip of something to wash the dust from between his teeth. Outside the swinging doors of the saloon, he mopped his brow with a checkered handkerchief before plopping his hat back on. Once upon a time, it’d been white but was now more a dirt-brown color. Maybe he’d get himself a new one before he left this too crowded Missouri town for good.

He’d been helping folks cross the country to Oregon territory for a couple of years now, but those long days in the saddle were beginning to take their toll. He had his own bit of land in the Willamette Valley and enough money to make a real go at farming it. Maybe find himself a wife and have a kid or two, though she’d need to be able to hold her own and help out around the homestead. His limp from taking fire at the battle of Gettysburg waxed and waned, but it never went away.

Daniel pushed his way into the bar. The stink of unwashed bodies and spilled whiskey made the place a little ripe. One of the doves working the place smiled at him.

“How’s the saving coming?” he asked as he bellied up to the bar. Jemma had come from England with a fair bit of medical training but had ended up penniless on the edge of the frontier. Determined to set up a practice out in Montana Territory, she dressed up in her flippery almost every night to pour drinks for men. She’d dance with them, spend time chatting and flirting, but as far as Daniel knew she only ever took one patron up to her room. Poor idiot was besotted and didn’t seem to realize she was just as calf-eyed. “And is your Scotsman coming in tonight?”

Her cheeks pinked as she slipped his coins he paid with off the bar. He’d paid too much for the two fingers of whiskey she poured, but Jemma had lost the argument about giving him change a long time ago. “He’ll be by later,” she said, her smile soft. “And I’ve got enough to leave, finally.”

“Then why aren’t you gone?”

Her smile turned a little sad. “I’ll buy a train ticket north soon.”

The whiskey in his glass sloshed as he swirled it. “You just need to tell him, y’know. That boy is as nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs, especially when it comes to you. And May told me you hardly charge him anything.”

Jemma rolled her eyes. “Fitz has been an apprentice farrier until this spring, with hardly two pennies to rub together.”

“Just tell him you’ve got a little town picked out, one that needs a doctor and someone to shoe horses.”

She put her fingers over his. “Don’t trouble yourself, you’re too kind.” Jemma glanced up, over his shoulder, to where voices were raising. Dammit, he knew that bellow. Only John Garrett sounded like such an angry moose. 

“Everything okay?” Daniel asked.

Jemma subtly shook her head. “A lady came in here to talk to the leader of the wagon train leaving tomorrow. You’re not going with that group, are you?”

“Nah, you know I don’t ride with Garrett. I’m planning to go next week with the last train of the season. Going to stay this time, I think.” Jemma patted his fingers. “Now what’s the problem?” He shifted on the barstool. Garret’s face had gone red, but the gorgeous young woman talking to him didn’t look intimidated.

Daniel fumbled the hat off his head, setting in on the bar beside his unfinished drink. “What’s her story?” The woman had dark hair, currently braided down her back in a neat plait. She had a dark gray dress on with a matching bonnet clutched in her hands. For all it’s dowdy color, the dress flattered her, but it was her eyes, dark and intense, that made his breath catch.

Jemma moved around the end of the counter to lean close. “Her name is Daisy, and she was widowed late last autumn, after she and her husband had paid for the trip, bought most of their supplies along with a wagon and mules, and sold off what little else they had. She showed up to make the journey alone.”

“Nobody is going to let her go alone.”

“I don’t think she knows that.”

Daniel knew he should turn back around and finish his drink, leaving this Daisy to realize she was out of luck. Maybe she could sell her supplies and pay to travel with some family, if she really wanted to go, though young, unmarried women weren’t often made very welcome on the trail.

He hopped to his feet and strode across the room just as Garrett bellowed something unintelligible at Daisy while shaking a finger at her. Daisy didn’t budge.

“I’m going,” she said, voice firm and even.

Garrett spat on the floor. “Only if you’re married by sunrise, though I’m not sure anyone would want used goods like you.” He strode for the door, knocking into Daniel’s shoulder and giving him a glare in passing.

Daniel made his way over to Daisy, who shook with what he supposed was fury. Her clenched jaw and the whiteness of her knuckles as she gripped her bonnet showed her anger.

“I always feel the same way after talking to that ass,” he said, stepping closer to her.

Daisy took a deep breath before tilting her head back to look up at him. “What do you want?” she said. Her voice snapped with fire.

Daniel looked her over from head to toe while his heart beat double time. She required help and he could give it.

“I heard you need a husband?”


	2. Chapter 2

“Excuse me?” She couldn’t have heard that right. Part of her still felt married, even though Lincoln had passed six months ago. Daisy had thought she’d reached the point of being past the worst of the grief, but the idea of marrying someone else still didn’t sit right. “Mister, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Daniel Sousa, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He stuck his hand out. It looked rough from work, but she still found herself shaking it. His palm was warm, and his fingers engulfed hers. There was no zing, like the shock she’d had the first time she’d touched Lincoln, instead just a steadily growing heat. Like a fire banked in the hearth that’d keep you warm and could be brought back to full blaze with a single poke.

She snatched her hand back.

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken…” She trailed off as she looked at the exit to the saloon. Her entire life was tied up in making this trip. The land would belong to her, though the claim was in her late husband’s name. She could make a new life out West.

Sousa, arms crossed, watched her warily. “I very rarely am,” he said in a low voice.

“Fine, yes, I’m in a mess.” She looked at the bar, where women decked out in fancy clothes batted their eyes at the men while bottles of whiskey clinked against glasses. “I suppose I could do that,” she said.

“You could,” he agreed. “All the men would want you in their lap.” Sousa frowned as if he didn’t like the thought. “I know if you work here, you’re only expected to dance with the men and talk with them. The upstairs part is optional.”

Daisy lowered her eyes. “The girls do what they need to survive.”

“They get no judgment from me. I’ve been friends with Jemma—she’s the one behind the bar—for a few years now. Not upstairs type friends, just to make that clear, and she’d help you find a spot if you want it, but I don’t think you do. You want the challenge of the west. Like I do.”

She eyed him. His clothes were simple, but they fit well, with worn places that suggested he spent a lot of time in the saddle. “And what do you do?”

“I’ve been a trail hand with the wagons for a while, and I help with herding stock during the winter. But I’ve got land claimed in Oregon, this year is going to be my last trip, then I’m staying.” He shrugged. “Figured I could help get you there since it’s on my way.”

“What do you get out of this?”

Another shrug.

“So we’d get married, then we’d set off with the train in the morning?”

“That’s how I see it. I’m not going to ask for, uh, anything else.”

Daisy’s heart leaped with hope, and maybe something else, though she didn’t want to think about that, not when she was following through on Lincoln’s plans. But even if this seemed like an easy solution, there had to be a catch. “I can’t cook,” she blurted. 

Sousa grinned, which was…uh…totally terrible. He looked terrible.

Daisy’s eyes followed the curve of a stain on a nearby table, determinedly not looking at this man and his nice…hair. And arms. He’d just said it’d be a marriage in name only. She told her body to calm down, she’d just met this man, her heart shouldn’t be racing like this.

“Well, ma’am, it’s a good thing I’ve had to fend for myself for a while. I make a pretty mean pot of baked beans.”

The pounds of dried beans in the wagon sounded much more appetizing. She could imagine a pot over a fire, bubbling quietly while the mules cropped grass close by. Daisy slid her gaze back to Sousa. “How do I know you aren’t a horrible person? Why aren’t you married? Maybe you beat your wife until she ran off.”

Sousa’s brow raised, but then he dropped his chin. “No wife. I’m on the trail a lot, not much time, and, well, there’s a musket ball lodged in my leg. Hurts something fierce when a storm kicks up. I can ride alright, but driving a team is right out.” He sighed. “I was hoping we could share some supplies for the winter once we got there since otherwise, I’ll be paying dearly. We can annul the marriage whenever you like after we get there. Whatever reason you want.”

Daisy reached out to touch under his chin until he raised his head so their gazes met. “What if I tell the judge it’s because you can’t—” She pointed her finger down before moving her hand to stand it up towards the ceiling.

To her surprise, Sousa’s face went a little red and he coughed before replying. “I did say whatever reason you would like.”

The blush is what convinced her he spoke the truth and was simply who he seemed to be, a man being nice to a woman in trouble while making life a little easier for both of them. “I like gothic novels,” she said. “I have three new ones I’ll read out loud to you on the trail while you make beans.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

“Both.”

“I think we’ll get along fine, ma’am.”

“Then let’s get married.”

He put his large hands on her shoulders. “Proposal accepted.” He looked over his shoulder. “Jemma, a little help?”

One of the saloon girls hurried over. Her hair was in an elaborate updo and her dress was all frills, but her eyes were kind and her manner competent. “I’m Jemma,” she said to Daisy. “How can I help?”

“We’re getting married,” Sousa said. Jemma’s expression didn’t change, she simply nodded once briskly. “The dress Daisy is wearing will have to do, but can you help her with her hair? And whatever else women need before a wedding. I’ll find the reverend and cancel with the trail boss I was heading out with next week. You—” he pointed at Daisy “—just wait here.”

He turned and headed for the door to the street. It was a fine view, and it took her a moment to realize he did favor one leg, but that hardly seemed a problem when the man filled out the back of his trousers like that.

Jemma elbowed her. “Won’t be a hardship to be married to him, will it?”

“That man can’t possibly be as amazing as he seems.”

“He’s hardworking and he won’t hurt you. Not the greatest conversationalist, but out here men like him are few and far between.”

Daisy turned to face Jemma. “Have you slept with him?”

Jemma laughed. “Goodness, no. He keeps company with us here but has never fancied any of us enough to ask for a tumble.” Her look turned shrewd as she shooed Daisy towards the back of the saloon. “You’re a widow, but do you have any questions about bedroom matters?”

“We’ve agreed to not participate in bedroom matters.” Which was a pity. A stab in her chest reminded her that she’d had a husband she’d been happy to share a bed with. One who’d told her not to stop living. If he was here, Daisy had no doubt he’d be laughing his rear off at how something this impulsive was just like her.

Jemma snorted. “Sure, all those long, cold nights on the trail. I’m certain nothing will happen.”

“Well, when you say it like that—” She paused. Would it be so bad if she enjoyed the company of someone she’d be in close quarters with for months? Daisy dropped to a whisper as they entered a small parlor and Jemma shut the door behind them. “I wasn’t married long, but I refused the few times my husband offered to use his mouth…down there. Is that a thing that’s done?”

“Sit.” Jemma indicated a bench in front of a well-used vanity. She picked up a brush. “Undo your hair.” Their eyes met in the mirror as Daisy loosened her braid. “And be prepared, I’m about to educate you about all the things a man’s mouth is good for.” 


	3. Chapter 3

Daniel was getting married. In a saloon.

The reverend had readily agreed to bless the union once enough money had been waved under his nose, and should mosey in shortly with the documents to make everything legal.

Daniel had two rings in his pocket, which had also cost a pretty penny, especially because he’d needed two since he didn’t know what size to get for Daisy, and hedged his bets with a larger one and a smaller one. Getting out of his agreement with the other wagon train had been more work, and ultimately it’d taken him telling the trail boss about the pending nuptials. Then Daniel had endured a lot of toasting and back slaps.

His shoulder still stung as he walked back into his usual haunt. He craned his neck, looking for Daisy, and nearly walked right into Jemma’s blacksmith, who stood in the middle of the floor, looking for all the world like he was about to cry.

“Everything alright?” Daniel asked.

Fitz raked his fingers through his hair as he turned towards Daniel. Judging from the disarray of Fitz’s hair, it wasn’t the first time the fellow had done so. “Jemma’s not here,” Fitz whispered. “She said she’d be here and…she’s not.” His gaze rose to the closed doors of the upstairs rooms. “I…I…thought she might be up there with you.”

Daniel laughed, which made Fitz frown. “Sorry,” Daniel said between chuckles. “Today has been quite the day.” He put his hand on Fitz’s shoulder. “I’m getting married.”

“What? To Jemma?” Fitz’s hands curled into fists at his side while his face turned an alarming shade of red.

Daniel couldn’t stop himself, he laughed hard enough to start wheezing. “Not…not…Jemma.” He managed to get out when Fitz looked ready to punch him. Daniel hauled in a huge breath, attempting to stuff the mirth back down. He grabbed Fitz’s elbow and directed him to sit at an empty table. “How’d you meet Jemma? I’ve been meaning to ask. You don’t seem to be the sort to just wander into this kind of establishment.”

Daniel took the absence of both Jemma and Daisy to mean wedding preparations were still underway. He took his hat off and dropped it on the scarred top of the table. It seemed impossible this was the last time he’d see the inside of this saloon, or that he’d never have a chance to sit and shoot the breeze with any of the regulars again.

Fitz gripped the edge of the table with both hands. His eyes darted around as he kept looking for Jemma, but Daniel didn’t want to give away where she was in case she came out dolled up as well. “Ah, well, some of the other blokes at the shop teased me because I never went out. One time, after we got our pay, they talked me into having a drink. Dragged me here. I kept my head down, sipping my whiskey, but one of the lads bought me a dance with a lady.”

“Jemma.”

“Aye.” Fitz’s head swiveled as he searched the room. “I’d never met anyone like her. Brilliant, lovely, funny. I paid for a second dance but didn’t have enough for a third. She said for half the price I could get, some, uh, time with her. Upstairs. I didn’t want to stop talking to her, so I paid. Ate very little the next week, but it was worth it.”

Daniel coughed to hide another laugh, though he felt very sympathetic. If Fitz had told him this story yesterday, Daniel would have laughed, but now all he could think about was Daisy, and how he simply hadn’t been able to walk away from her.

Fitz’s face had gone dreamy.

“Did you two only talk?” Daniel asked.

Pink tinged Fitz’s ears. “Uh—”

“We did not,” Jemma said, poking Fitz with the end of a wooden fan. He launched himself out of his chair with enough force to knock it over, sending it clattering to the floor. His arms wrapped around Jemma, hauling her close in a fierce hug.

Daisy caught Daniel’s eye and her brow raised. He understood her question, and a thrill ran through him that they could already communicate with just a look. It’d make trail life easier.

“Fitz thought Jemma was upstairs, with me,” Daniel supplied for her.

Daisy rolled her eyes.

“You look lovely,” he murmured, standing and taking his hat in his hands. Daisy’s hair hung in waves over her shoulder and down her back. A few strands were braided back from her temples. Tiny purple flowers were tucked into the braids, crowning her with blooms. Her dress was the same, but Jemma must have worked magic with pins because it hugged Daisy’s bosom and hips in a very flattering way. He took her hand and stepped closer. She smelled faintly of rosewater and Daniel dearly wished that he’d thought to clean up before stopping at the saloon. He probably stank of horse.

Daisy ducked her head. “Thank you.” The corner of her lips quirked up into a smile. “I’m afraid I won’t always be so fresh on the trail.”

“I think I’ll manage,” he said, trying to not imagine her bathing in one of the many still pools they’d stop at during the journey. “If I’d known I’d be getting hitched tonight I would have put on a clean shirt.”

“My knight in worn denim and an old hat.” Her face lit up and she raised his hand to her mouth to brush a kiss over his knuckles. “Thank you.”

“It’s a good hat.” He tapped it against his leg. “I was thinking of getting a new one before hitting the trail, but this one will do since I’ll have a new wife.”

Daisy squeezed his fingers.

Jemma wiggled out from Fitz’s hold to cup his face. “You’re daft, Fitz. I wouldn’t tell you I’d be here and then entertain privately right when I was expecting you.”

Daniel sighed, loudly, making both Fitz and Jemma look at him. “I’m going to hurry this up.” There was a commotion as the reverend entered the saloon with a Bible in hand. “Fitz, Jemma has no other gentlemen she takes upstairs besides you. And Jemma, exactly how long have you had the money saved to head north?”

Fitz’s mouth dropped open and Jemma’s nose wrinkled. She opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “More than a year,” she said in a tiny voice.

“What?” Fitz barked. “Why the hell are you still here?”

“She had to wait on someone to finish their apprenticeship,” Daniel said. He fished the rings out of his pocket and held them out to Daisy. “Keep the one that fits,” he said, voice going hoarse. A wife. He was about to have a wife. A beautiful, strong, tough as nails wife. The end of the trail was a long way away. Maybe they would find they didn’t suit and would be done with each other before they reached Oregon, but he hoped that perhaps all those miles would help something grow that right this moment was only a tiny seed of what could be.

Jemma and Fitz were still staring mutely at each other when Daisy handed back the ring that didn’t fit.

Daniel nudged Fitz’s shoulder before handing him the ring. “You know what you need to do.”

Shaking, he leaned close to Jemma and spoke in her ear. After a moment she nodded, grabbing his collar and kissing him passionately.

“Two birds with one stone?” Daisy asked.

“Do you mind?”

“Hardly.” Her mouth pursed. “Are we going to kiss? When the ceremony is complete?”

“If you want to.” It was hard not to shout a resounding yes. He wanted to give her the chance to say no, in case she felt very differently about this whole thing than he did. What he couldn’t stop was how his gaze dropped to her mouth. Daisy had lovely lips, the top one dipped into a perfect bow and the lower one pouted, nearly begging to be bitten.

Daisy crossed her arms to study him. Her teeth sunk into the lushness of her bottom lip. That wasn’t fair. He wanted to be doing that.

“I think I’d like that,” she said. Her lashes lowered. “Please kiss me, Sousa.” 


	4. Chapter 4

The door to the upstairs room shut behind them with an unremarkable click.

Daisy pressed her fingers to her decidedly not tingling lips. When Sousa had asked for a kiss, she’d imagined being swept off her feet. More like the way Fitz had kissed Jemma, not stopping after they were pronounced man and wife until they’d been jostled apart by enthusiastic well-wishers. Instead, Sousa had chastely pressed his closed mouth briefly against Daisy’s.

She wanted more while at the same time appreciating that he hadn’t tried to force more on her. Why did he have to be so damn decent?

After a little celebrating, Jemma had hauled Fitz off to the local hotel but had offered her little room at the saloon to Daisy and Sousa as a place to stay. They couldn’t go back to Sousa’s bed at a lodging house, and the only other option would be to sleep in Daisy’s covered wagon. She’d left it and the mules under the care of another couple in the same wagon train had no worries it’d be safe and sound. However, a last night in a bed sounded much more enticing. It also sold her and Sousa’s marriage as the real thing, should anyone ask.

Jemma’s room was tiny, with a single, narrow bunk. It was all scrupulously clean and neat as a pin, with several shelves full of books with little metal statues holding them up.

“These are cute,” Sousa said. “A cow, horse, and I think this one’s a sheep. Fitz outdid himself.”

Daisy sat on the edge of the bed with its neatly stitched quilt. “He made those?” 

“Think so. He’s a wizard when it comes to working metal.”

She looked wistfully at the shelves. “I don’t have anything left of Lincoln…that is, I mean that was, my husband.” Daisy held up her hand where the gold band of her new ring glinted.

“Not true.” Sousa came to sit beside her, settling a hand on her back. “Heading to Oregon Territory was a dream you both shared, and you’re still going, you didn’t let the dream die with him. He gave you that, and you’re fighting for that dream. You even married me.” He shrugged. “If that’s not dedication, I don’t know what would be.”

She looked up at him, studying his square jaw and expressive eyes. It wouldn’t be a hardship looking at him while they were on the trail. She put a hand on his chest, marveling at how warm he felt. He’d keep her cozy on the trail at night. “I could have done worse than marrying you,” she said.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She patted his chest. “But I still want my kiss.”

His brows drew together. “Didn’t we cover that downstairs?”

“Is that what you call a kiss?”

He scratched at his neck. “I could probably do better. We could try again.”

Daisy took the opportunity to lean in. He smelled of fresh air and laundry soap, a heady combination that filled her nose as she pressed her closed lips to his. Sousa stiffened, his lips pressing together hard. She kissed him anyway, teasing her tongue along the seam of his mouth. He made a frustrated noise, then grabbed her upper arms and kissed her back. His lips glided against hers, and when she gasped, his tongue dipped into her mouth.

All of it felt wonderful. He tasted of whiskey, the richness of the flavor matching him perfectly. Daisy curled her fingers into his shirt, wanting to be even closer to him.

Sousa finally broke the kiss. Daisy tried to follow his mouth, but his grip on her shoulders kept her in place.

“Whoa, there,” he said, his breathing ragged.

“Whoa?”

“I know you’ve got the bit between your teeth and you want to take off at a gallop, but I think…I think I might want this to be more than just a grassfire.”

Daisy blinked. “What?” Was she the horse, or the fire, or…what?

“Grassfire, burns hot and moves fast?”

“Oh.” She was burning, for the first time in a very long time, but Daisy thought she might understand. When she’d been little she’d been scolded so many times for rushing into things, not looking before she leaped. As a grown woman and a wife, she hadn’t changed that much. That she wore a new ring and had a husband she’d known for less than a day was proof enough she still charged into things with her eyes closed. She sat back, hands in her lap. “What kind of fire were you thinking?”

Sousa ducked his head. “The kind that burns in the home hearth, never goes out, keeps the whole family warm.”

She went from being on fire to nearly melting onto the floor. “It’s like the trail, you think about the destination, but the actual journey is made one step at a time.”

He met her gaze and smiled. “I still really care about the destination.”

Daisy laughed. “Me too. And I know how we’re going to make the journey west. I’m less sure about this one.” She leaned against his strong shoulder. “Maybe we should start with some sleep? The wagon train leaves early.”

“Good idea, Mrs. Sousa.”

She poked his side, then stood to remove her dress and corset, leaving her in a plain chemise and drawers. If she’d known she’d be getting married, she would have worn something with lace. She sat on the bed again as Sousa undressed, the actions intimate and homely. He crawled into the bed and under the quilt, putting his back against the wall.

Daisy tucked her feet beneath the covers, lay down on her side, and cuddled up against Sousa. She didn’t have a choice, the bed was too narrow for them to sleep with any distance between them. He was warm and solid behind her, and his arm felt just right as it curled about her. A banked fire keeping her comfortable.

She could get used to that.

#

Daisy had woken up alone and rushed through dressing before running down the stairs, only to find Sousa waiting for her in the taproom.

“I’d thought you’d left,” she said, sitting beside him. He pushed a plate of toast and eggs at her.

He frowned. “You just looked so sweet, all curled up, I didn’t want to wake you. I went to pack up my things and get my horse.”

Of course, he’d been considerate of her rest. “Next time wake me up. I don’t like expecting someone to be there and finding that space empty.”

His face fell. “I’m sorry.”

“Now you know.”

She shoveled the food into her mouth and washed it down with watery beer. Sousa led her out into the very early morning light. His horse, a big bay, stood tethered to a rail in front of the saloon. It knickered as Sousa introduced Daisy, and she scratched between the horse’s eyes.

“Daisy, this is Zephyr.” Sousa patted the horse’s side before sticking a foot into a stirrup and mounting with an easy grace. He held out a hand. She reached up and he pulled her into his arms, sitting her crosswise in front of him. The horse’s gait was smooth as butter, hardly jostling her as they trotted towards where the wagon train was lining up to haul up.

Daisy directed Sousa to where her wagon sat, waiting beside the one that belonged to Hunter and Bobbi. The six mules were picketed nearby. They raised their heads as Sousa deposited Daisy beside the wagon.

“Oi!” Hunter called. “We were worried you weren’t going to come back.”

“Sorry,” Daisy said, waving.

Bobbi looked up from where she was harnessing oxen to their wagon. “Who’s that?”

Daisy grinned. “Daniel Sousa. I needed a husband to stay in the party, so I found one.” He raised a hand.

Both Bobbi and Hunter’s mouths fell open. “He’s coming too?” Hunter asked, his gaze following Sousa as her new husband went to retrieve the mules.

“Yeah, he’s usually a guide, so he knows the trail.” Pride sparked in her chest.

Bobbi returned to the oxen’s harness. “Good choice.”

“I know.”

#

_ A Month Later _

The scent of rain invaded the covered wagon as the drops beat a tattoo on the canvas. The poor mules would be huddled together, but at least this was just a shower and not a rolling thunderstorm that’d spook the livestock.

Daisy and Sousa were crowded into the scant space in the wagon. She straddled his lap, feeding him bits of biscuit he’d made the day before. They were rich with bacon fat and tasted smoky from the fire they’d been baked over. She stole kisses between the bites. Or tried to, it was pitch dark in the wagon since they didn’t dare light a candle or lantern because of the fire risk, and the storm clouds blotted out what little light the moon provided.

Ducking in for a kiss while Sousa chewed, she ended up pressing her mouth to his chin, making her laugh.

“That’s a miss,” he said. “What should my wife’s penalty be?”

Daisy ate the last bite of biscuit while contemplating the answer. “She could make coffee in the morning?”

“I like that idea, but I’m thinking right now. Maybe she could ride her husband?”

They’d lasted about a week on the trail before consummating their marriage. It’d felt natural and right, as if meeting and setting out together to explore had always been their destiny. Daisy also had the sneaking suspicion that she loved Sousa. She smiled a lot around him, was always glad to see him, and appreciated how steady he was on the trail. Nothing fazed him, from broken wheels to runaway livestock. He simply solved the problem.

She hadn’t known that she needed a rock, but he’d become hers anyway. She reached out in the dark, banging her hand against his shoulder before sliding her fingers down to his chest. Her fingertip wrote ‘Daisy’ across it.

“It’s carved there,” Sousa said, grabbing her wrist on the second try. “Like all the names on Independence Rock.” He brought her fingers to his mouth, softly kissing their ends.

“I love you too,” she said, the words a soft whisper.

Sousa leaned forward, holding her tight against him, his face against her throat. “So you’re not going to divorce me for impotence?”

She swatted at his shoulder, thankfully not missing her mark. “It’d be a lie.”

“Are you sure? Better check, you don’t want to be wrong.”

Daisy snorted with laughter, Sousa’s lips on hers silencing the chuckles a moment later. She’d gotten lucky, walking into just the right saloon at just the right time to find a piece of her life that’d been missing: a husband who looked good in a cowboy hat and who knew how to kiss. 


End file.
